


No Smoking

by grovestep



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Nerd Blaine Anderson, Skank Kurt Hummel, Skank Quinn Fabray
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 12:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18194375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grovestep/pseuds/grovestep
Summary: [NOTE: THIS STORY IS OLD! Written in 2013. I'm putting it up on Ao3 to gauge interest in a rewrite.]"McKinley's most renowned badass has a soft side. When Blaine Anderson stumbles into his life, Kurt Hummel is taken off guard by his charm. An adventure of rebellious teens, parties,and of course, no smoking. Not like they'll follow that rule."





	No Smoking

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written circa 2013, at the height of my interest in Glee. I am much older now and would like to gauge the interest for a re-write/refurbish and completion of this work.  
> This work has not been edited. It has simply been copy-pasted in its original form. I'm aware of the grammatical mistakes and if I elect to rewrite it, I'll fix 'em right up.

_No Smoking._

The red sign was prominent against the side of the white building. Kurt ran a hand through his pink streaked hair, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit one, taking a drag and leaning against the wall right below the sign. Clumps of kids walked past him, eyeing him wearily. One particularly nerdy looking kid stopped and stared right at Kurt. He had curly hair that was tamped down with a light sheen of gel. He was short, dressed in cuffed pants, suspenders and a bowtie. His honey colored eyes were hidden behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses. 

"What are you looking at, short-stack?" Kurt jerked his head at the kid, raising an eyebrow in question. 

"N-no smoking," the boy stuttered, but regained composure a few seconds later, "you aren't supposed to smoke here. If you don't put it out, I'm going to have to escort you to the principal's office." He proclaimed with more confidence. 

"Oh yea? And who're you to do so?" Kurt sneered.

"Student adviser and hall monitor, Blaine Anderson." He piped proudly. 

"Well, Blaine Anderson, I'd like to see your scrawny ass try." Kurt challenged, taking a step closer to Blaine and blowing a puff of smoke in his face. Blaine waved it away, letting out a small cough. 

"What?" Blaine asked in disbelief, nobody had questioned his authority before. But that was probably because he hadn't had to exercise it much. 

"I said, I'd like to see you try." 

Blaine's eyes were wide and confused. He didn't know what to do in a situation like this. He certainly wasn't going to start a fight, that could get them both in trouble. Grabbing the other boy's arm and dragging him there was an idea, but Kurt had height and meanness that Blaine didn't possess. Talking it out was better, but reporting it to the principal without Kurt's presence was even more appealing. He looked smugly at Kurt, turning on his heel. 

Kurt grabbed his upper arm firmly, turning Blaine around to look him in the eye. Blaine tried to shrink away, but Kurt kept him nose-to-nose. "Don't you dare." Kurt hissed, gritting his teeth. "If I get one more offense I'm getting suspended. Now, I don't need to go home to my dad and tell him that, you hear?" Kurt's eyes went soft at the mention of his father, but hardened again barely moments later. Blaine swallowed hard, nodding and trying to get Kurt to let his arm go. 

Kurt blinked at how hard his hand was digging into Blaine's arm, and let go quickly. "Sorry," he muttered, then looked up, "take this will ya?" he ordered more than asked, lifting up Blaine's arm and placing his lit cigarette between two of his fingers, making it look as though Blaine was smoking it. The vice principal waltzed past, pausing and turning to look in their direction. 

"Mr. Anderson!? What in the--detention!" the stocky man sputtered in astonishment. 

Kurt stood back and smirked. Blaine looked crestfallen and terrified, and turned on Kurt, red in the face. Before Blaine could get out a word, Kurt plucked the cigarette from his fingers, laughing. "See you in detention, short-stack." Kurt called over his shoulder as he waltzed away, flicking ashes from his cigarette.

\--

Blaine Devon Anderson is not a delinquent. 

He got straight A's, was the student adviser and hall monitor, and soon to be class president. He had a clean permanent record, kept a good reputation with the teachers, and was looked upon as a bright student. 

So it was obvious why he felt out of place with the rough bunch in detention. 

The pink haired girl with the John Lennon sunglasses and the scary Ryan Seacrest tattoo(which kept staring into his soul every time her shirt rode up her back) was peering at him from her chair two seats in front of him. He was pretty sure her name was Quinn. She was accompanied by a particularly rough looking boy with a mohawk who was laughing hysterically at something Quinn had said. There were a couple other kids off in the far corners, one who he knew as Stoner Brett. Kurt was nowhere to be found. 

Although the snarky, smoking teen had landed him here, Blaine wished he'd show up already. Kurt was the only one he had ever spoken to, and he had a few stern words to say to him. Plus, the room's atmosphere was starting to make him uncomfortable. He didn't belong here, and the other kids knew that very well. It seemed to be amusing to them, that, or he had something on his face. Because Quinn and the mohawk guy kept looking at him and snickering. He shivered, turning away from them to look out the window. 

The detention monitor waltzed in moments later, plopping himself right on top of the teacher's desk. "Alright, I'm gonna take roll and you all are gonna sit down and shut up," the man barked, eyeing mohawk guy, "that means off the desk and in a seat, Puckerman." He ordered, glaring pointedly at 'Puckerman.' The name made Blaine giggle, but he quickly closed his mouth when Puck rounded on him with the most killer look on his face. 

"Leave it, Puck." Quinn said sternly, not even looking sideways. Puck snorted and sat down in his seat, eyes lingering on Blaine before flicking back to the teacher. 

Right before he started taking roll, Kurt bustled into the room, throwing his bag down beside the desk in front of Blaine and sitting down heavily. "It's about time, Hummel. What makes you think you can show up later than everyone else?" The teacher locked in on Kurt. Kurt shrugged, keeping his mouth shut and eyes down on the desk. Blaine caught a worried look exchanged between Puck and Quinn. "I want an answer, Hummel. So what'll it be?" The teacher's voice was challenging. 

Kurt's jaw hardened and he looked defiantly up at the man."I don't have to give you shit," he bit out like venom. 

"You just earned yourself another detention. You know what that means? A suspension. Hope you like the hole you dug yourself, Hummel." 

Kurt returned his gaze downward, deflating like a balloon. Blaine second guessed his plan to confront Kurt about framing him. It was obvious something was up and he didn't want to rub salt in the wound. Maybe he'd try to talk to him after detention was over. As much as he hated to admit it, he was worried. Well, worried might now be the right word. _Concerned._ Blaine was concerned about a fellow classmate who was in distress, that was all. He repeated it over and over in his head as detention dragged on. 

After they were dismissed, Blaine tried approaching Kurt once they were into the hallway. But Quinn and Puck had him under their wings, leaning walking closely by him and looking fierce. When they spotted him, Quinn snapped, "Buzz off Anderson," and Blaine stopped in his tracks. He watched them round the corner and disappear, brow furrowed in confusion. 

He was going to find out what's going on. 

And he was eventually going to give Kurt a piece of his mind.

Eventually.

\--

"Whaddaya mean?"

"I mean I can't hang out with you guys for the next few days." 

Kurt, Puck, and Quinn all sat around in Puck's basement. Puck was giving Kurt a disheartened look, "What's this about, Hummel? Your old man ground you for your suspension? I didn't think you were one to abide by that." 

Kurt wheeled around, glaring at Puck. "Can you at least try to be serious for once in your life, Noah?" he shouted, making Puck back up and throw his hands up in surrender. Kurt let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes and sinking back into the sofa. "My dad...he's," Kurt tried to find his voice, make it sound like he was remotely okay, "h-he's in a coma and they aren't sure if he's going to wake up." Saying it out loud made it feel all the more real. The more he kept it to himself and didn't talk about it made it seem like it was all a bad dream. Like he was going to wake up to his dad's smiling face as he tried to fix breakfast for the both of them. Once he spoke the words out loud, he could feel it all slipping away. It was scary how easy his dad could turn into memories just like his mom had. But he wouldn't allow himself to cry. Not here in front of his friends. He had to stay strong for them. 

"Oh my God, Kurt, are you okay?" Quinn gasped, "Why did you come to detention? You should have been with your dad." 

Kurt shook his head, pulling his knees to himself. "If I missed I would have gotten suspended. But I screwed that up big time. What will he think? I'm already a disappointment, the last thing I need to tell him is I got kicked out for three days. That'll make him real proud." 

"Kurt, your dad doesn't think that. Not your dad, of all people. He loves you. Not once has he ever walked out on you. I wish we shared a dad some times." Puck said seriously, patting Kurt's back. Quinn took Kurt's shaking hand in hers, sidling up next to him and allowing him to lean into her. 

"Everything's going to be alright," Quinn and Puck murmured, taking their distressed friend under their wing. 

"Thanks guys," Kurt smiled, looking fondly at the both of them with glassy eyes, "it means a lot." 

~*~

The smell of antiseptic with the underlying scent of old people was evident throughout the hospital. Kurt paced the hall outside his dad's room. He didn't like to watch the woman give him acupuncture. It looked painful, but he knew all it could do was help. He'd do anything to get his dad to wake up. He let out a heavy sigh, plopping down in one of the chairs places along the wall. He held his head in his hands, trying to rub away a headache with his fingers. 

All of a sudden he could have sworn he heard Perfect by Pink drifting down the corridors. He looked up and down the halls, an eyebrow raised in question."Great, now I'm hearing things," he grumbled, leaning back in the chair. But the music gradually got louder, the sound of voices singing along carrying through the hospital. 

Curious, Kurt wandered down the hallway, following the tune to the children's ward. He watched through a large plexiglass window as the entirety of the glee club serenaded the group of sick kids that dotted the room. They all seemed to be content and happy. 

Kurt zeroed in on the lead singer, none other than the nerdy kid from detention. He watched as Blaine danced around the room, letting the children join in with him, encouraging interaction. He successfully got most of the room up and dancing, and Kurt noticed the wheelchair kid teaching the other chair bound kids a few moves. Kurt found himself smiling softly at the scene. 

Blaine looked up, noticing Kurt hovering in the doorway. He smiled brightly, motioning for Kurt to join them. Kurt hesitated, biting his lip. He shook his head, taking a step back. Blaine laughed, shaking his head in return. He hurried to the door before Kurt could escape, barely pausing before grabbing Kurt by the arm. "One song wouldn't hurt, would it?" Blaine asked, his eyes shining through his thick rimmed glasses. 

"I have to sit with my dad," Kurt looked anxiously down then hall then back at Blaine,"he's... in a coma." 

"Then maybe hearing the music will help wake him up? It's done wonders for these kids," Blaine suggested innocently, gesturing towards the happy children. 

"I don't know, Blaine," Kurt frowned.

"Please? I'll owe you one." 

"You already owe me one," Kurt sighed in defeat, "what are we singing?" 

"Next song is True Colors by Cyndi Lauper. You know it?" 

"Are you kidding? I wasn't born under a rock, Blaine. I was born musically inclined in the rock equivalent Lima, Ohio. Big difference," Kurt laughed, following Blaine into the room. They both fell in beside the other glee club members. Kurt felt them staring at him oddly, but the looks were gone moments later as his voice rang out with theirs. He'd been a member of the Skanks since he'd been in high school. But somehow this felt more like home. He shrugged off the feelings, focusing on entertaining the children and getting his father to wake up.

That was a problem for another day.

\--

Kurt sat in his room, head resting in one hand while his other clutched a worn picture. His sea-foam eyes were glassy as he stared at the family photo. His father and mother stood with their arms around each other, while one of Burt's hands rested on Kurt's shoulder warmly. Kurt was six, his eyes bright and smile wide. There was nothing in the world that could break their happiness in that moment. Kurt wished he could travel back to those times. He wished he could bring his mother back just to see the spark of light that died out of his father's eyes. 

Sometimes Kurt would catch glimpses of the fire in Burt's eyes, the rekindled spirit. Like when Kurt chastised him for eating unhealthy, or when Kurt taught him how to cook breakfast properly. Kurt thought it was a rare occurrence, but it happened more than he thought. While Kurt wasn't looking, Burt's heart filled with warmth as he watched his son grow and mature. Burt might not approve of Kurt's way of life in the Skanks, but Kurt was his son and Burt would support him no matter what. 

Tears rolled down Kurt's cheeks, landing on the photo and slowly sliding off. He took a deep, shaky breath, his free hand knotting in his hair as he tried to stave off the tears. Delicately, he sat the picture back on his nightstand. He fell heavily back on his bed, looking up at the white ceiling and receding into his thoughts. When he was alone, everything seemed to come down around him. As much as he didn't like to admit it, being around people helped keep him sane. When he was alone, his mind was allowed to wander as much as it wanted to. 

Kurt pondered many things, from why humans exist to what he would name a pet cat. But one thing that took residence in the corner of his mind and wiggled its way forward into his thoughts scared him. It was images of a curly-headed boy who uses too much gel, hiding honey eyes behind thick rimmed glasses. A soft, understanding smile and an expression that reads 'I don't give a shit about what you think about me, I'm me and that's wonderful.' It confused Kurt to no end. The boy who had waltzed so swiftly into his life had also found his way into Kurt's head just as fast. 

Kurt found Blaine endlessly annoying, using his hall monitor status to boss Kurt around. But, somehow Kurt's train of thought circled back around to the brown-eyed boy. He contemplated the possibility of a crush, but he shook his head, hitting himself in the forehead with his palm. There was no way he could have a crush on the doe eyed, curly-headed, handsome...Kurt felt a blush rise high on his cheeks and he frowned, flipping onto his stomach and burying his face into the pillows. He would not allow himself to develop a crush on Blaine Anderson. 

~*~

Blaine had his headphones in, bobbing his head to the beat of his music as he sat in his room. The walls were covered in posters of his favorite bands and Broadway musicals. His vanity was covered in hair products and stray cardigans. One of the drawers was labeled 'bow ties' and was hanging halfway open. Blaine was in a blissful state, his eyes shut lazily and head leaned against the wall as he sat on his bed. He allowed the lyrics of his music to whisk him away to a whole other world. He imagined things, placing himself in music videos he created in his mind. Songs about mystery and the unknown would come on, and Blaine's thoughts switched to one thing. 

The boy he had caught smoking outside the school. With the perfectly coiffed, pink streaked hair. The pale complexion, defiant expression, and sea-foam eyes. Kurt knocked Blaine right off his feet. He was a never-ending mystery. He seemed to have so many things going on inside of him at once, but he never showed it. There were rare times when Blaine glimpsed something past the steely shell Kurt surrounded himself with. When they were in the hospital, when Kurt talked about his dad. Blaine could see how vulnerable Kurt was. He felt honored to have seen such a side of the McKinley badass.

A smile graced Blaine's lips as he shamelessly imagined himself together with Kurt to a Taylor Swift song. He didn't mind having a small crush on the badboy. It was tempting, dangerous, but at the same time challenging. Kurt was a ball of complex emotions, an it would be hard to find the core. But Blaine didn't care. He could tell Kurt needed someone to lean on, and he wouldn't mind being that. As long as Kurt was happy, Blaine was fine.  
He dozed off with thoughts of Kurt Hummel swimming in his head. 

~*~

Blaine perched in his chair in the choir room, waiting for Mr. Schue to take the floor. He absent-mindedly fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he looked off into space. He felt someone take the seat next to him, but paid it no mind. It wasn't until said someone tried sticking a slip of paper to Blaine's gelled down hair did he look up. 

"It's about time you left Gay Blaine land and checked back into the real world," the Latina girl smirked, crossing her legs. 

"Hello to you too, Santana," Blaine nodded, peeling the piece of paper that Santana had successfully stuck to his hair off. He read over the slip of paper, looking back at Santana and raising an eyebrow. "What's this?"

"An address," she answered matter-of-factly. 

"Whose address?" Blaine asked suspiciously. 

"Puckerman's. There's a party this Saturday and I want you to come with me." 

"Uh, why would you want to do that?" 

"You're going to help me get back with Brittany. I know you two have some rainbow and cupcake thing going on," Santana smiled mischievously.

"But I don't drink," Blaine frowned disapprovingly, "and what if we get caught? What would I tell my parents?" 

"Good God, Blaine, can you pull that stick out of your ass for one second and let loose a little? You're a freaking teenager, can you honestly say you haven't wanted to drop the nerd act and get a little freaky?"

"I..." Blaine trailed off, looking to the ground, "I guess I'll go. But as soon as you and Brittany get together, I'm out of there," Blaine sighed in defeat. 

"Sure you will, Hobbit," Santana gave him a look like she knew something he didn't, and Blaine shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He felt like something was up, and his stomach twisted nervously. 

~*~

"You owe me one, Fabray," Santana was leaned against the wall behind the bleachers, staring at the pink haired girl sitting on the old sofa.

"If anything, Hummel owes you one," Quinn retorted, lighting a cigarette.

"It was hard enough convincing him to come, how are you going to keep him there?" 

"Don't worry, he'll stay," Quinn smiled knowingly, flicking cigarette ashes onto the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoyed? Leave a comment or a kudos. If you think you'd like to see this in a more polished iteration, say so in your comment.  
> OR! You can drop me a DM on Twitter @grovesteps


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